#ezra... light of my life

[jessicas-pi]

y'all got me all hyped to do more merfolk AU art so I finished the Love's Lights scene

[ahhh-soka]

guess who's back....

[pretchatta]

Family Dinner

After Ezra builds his lightsaber, the Ghost crew introduce him to the celebratory tradition that has evolved over the years, growing with each new member that joined the Spectres. It's one they're all too happy to add Ezra to – and he has a perfect addition of his own.

I wrote this three years ago (!!) for the @legacy-rebelsfanzine fanzine and was waiting to post it until after I received my copy. Unfortunately that never happened so I never posted it, but (spoiler alert) I'm coming back to writing and right now have a couple of pieces I'm sitting on for exchanges. This means I'm chomping at the bit to post something, so I figured it was finally time I shared this outside of the zine. Enjoy!

The delightful illustrations were all drawn by @wachie

you can also read, kudos and comment on AO3! ->

---

Ezra held his breath as he waited for his master to pass judgement on his newly-built lightsaber.

"Well, it's different," Kanan said finally, "but that seems about right for you. Go for it."

He handed the unorthodox hilt back to his Padawan and, holding it apprehensively out in front of him, Ezra ignited the blade. With a snap-hiss, the blue beam of energy came to life, its glow illuminating the Ghost's common area and reflecting in five pairs of awestruck eyes. The whole crew gazed at it and the boy holding it with a mixture of pride and reverence.

"I think this deserves a celebration," Hera murmured, breaking the silence.

Kanan gave her a knowing look, a grin playing at his lips. "Our usual?"

"Let's see what Ezra wants," she said, mirroring his smile. She turned to Ezra to explain, "It's become a tradition on this ship to mark special occasions with a particular meal, but since this is your achievement, is there something you would like? Something to celebrate the day you built your lightsaber?"

"Well..." Ezra stared thoughtfully at his still-lit lightsaber for a moment, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He seemed to come to a conclusion and thumbed the switch to retract the blade, dimming the light in the room back to its usual levels. "When I was a kid and my parents were making their broadcasts, there was a stew we'd have after each one. I remember it had these dumplings on top and when we made it, they'd let me make the dumplings. It was our tradition."

"A traditional stew, huh?" Zeb asked with a grin. "I think we're having our usual, Hera."

Ezra quirked an eyebrow at him. "You have the same thing?"

"Not with dumplings."

"Not yet," Sabine corrected, a glint in her eye.

It's our own special kind of stew," Hera explained to him. "It's changed a lot over the years, but it started when I first set out to fight the Empire. Whenever I had a few spare credits I'd treat myself to fresh  produce – whatever the local market had. I'd slice it up and fry it to add some flavour and texture to the usual rations. Each time someone joined my crew, it changed."

"It always went cold quickly, so I turned it into a broth," Kanan said.

"And it was vegetarian," Zeb added with a grimace.

Hera turned to him with a frown. "We couldn't afford meat regularly until you joined us," she pointed out.

"Somehow it was still lacking flavour when you picked me up, so I was the one to add spices," Sabine chipped in.

Hera smiled. "It improved each time."

"And your dumplings will make a great addition," Kanan told Ezra. "They should cook in the broth, and with them we won't even need to supplement it with rations any more."

Hera picked up her datapad and moved to stand in front of her crew. "It sounds like we need to make a market trip."

There was no need for everyone to go, but no-one wanted to stay behind – not even Chopper. Once everyone was out, Hera locked up the Ghost behind them as Zeb led the way to Kothal. Kanan hung back to walk with her behind the kids, and she slipped her hand into his and gave him a smile of thanks. The soft look he gave her in return warmed her heart.

Something had changed in him since he'd taken Ezra to that Temple, and something had changed in Ezra too. They had both come back different – calmer, more sure of themselves, more comfortable in their roles as Jedi Master and Padawan. She'd always done her best to support Kanan, but she knew Ezra and the Jedi Temple could give him something she had never been able to. However, the look in his eyes reminded her that she gave him something just as important.

The market wasn't overly busy this late in the day. They split up in order to find everything – and therefore get back for dinner – faster. Zeb went to a local butcher's stall with Chopper not far behind, and Sabine said something about running low on a few of her spices. Ezra seemed to be looking with interest at a selection of baking ingredients, so Hera left him to it and went to her favourite fresh produce stand.

Hera knew she was here for vegetables but the display of imported meilooruns did look good… She turned to ask Kanan if they had the credits for one, but he wasn't behind her where she had expected. A search of nearby stalls found him only a few metres away, wearing–

"Kanan," she called, incredulity colouring her voice, "is that a 'kiss the cook' apron?"

"What do you think?" he asked, giving her a roguish wink.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a grin. She allowed herself one meiloorun as she bought the vegetables, and then went to round up her crew.

Surprisingly, Chopper was the first she came across, and he seemed to be in a very good mood. She assumed he'd been looking at the displays of mechanical oils again. Zeb was next, who had managed to haggle an extra steak into his bag, and then Sabine, who had been about to wander over to a dye stall. Kanan fetched a suspiciously flour-covered Ezra and then she was leading the way back to the Ghost after yet another successful supply run.

Cooking began as soon as they returned, with everyone eager to eat. Kanan made a start on the broth, with Hera by his side slicing the vegetables. Sabine brought the pestle and mortar out to start grinding her spices as Zeb sharpened his steak knives. Kanan helped Ezra get ready to make his dumplings, and Hera saw what looked like a pang of nostalgia pass over the boy's face as he laid out his bowls in a very specific way.

The sounds that filled the galley were almost like music; the steady chop of Hera's knife, the sizzle of Zeb's pan, the scrape of Sabine's pestle and the gentle simmer of Kanan's broth. It didn't take long for some amazing smells to start wafting around the small space either.

"Hey, Ezra," Sabine called over the noise. "Have you ever had bisawa paste before?"

An array of jars and pots were open on the counter in front of her, the contents of which she was carefully measuring into a bowl. The one currently in her hand was filled with a bright green paste.

"Nope," Ezra replied, looking at the contents of the jar with interest. "What is it?"

Instead of replying, she used a spoon to scoop some out and offer it to him. "You should try some!"

Behind her, Zeb's ears pricked up with interest as he started to carefully transfer the contents of his pan into the broth. "Yeah, kid, try some, it's really good!"

"Okay," Ezra said, shrugging as his curiosity got the better of him.

He let Sabine feed him the mouthful of paste. It was as she removed the spoon and her eyes lit up with mischief that he realised his mistake – his tongue was burning. It was too late to stop himself from swallowing. The heat spread throughout his mouth and down his throat. Ezra felt his face flush and his eyes start to water.

He let out a pained groan. "Sabine!"

She tipped her head back and cackled with laughter. He lunged towards her, intending to wipe his floury hands on her in retribution, but Sabine was too fast. She ducked nimbly under his outstretched arms, still laughing. The galley wasn't very big, and as his vision blurred with tears he stumbled into the back of someone.

"Hey!" Zeb complained as Ezra knocked him.

Ezra started to wonder if his vengeance on Sabine could wait until after he found some water, but was distracted by the sight of the perfect white handprint on Zeb's back. Sabine noticed too, and they both burst into laughter together.

Zeb realised he was the butt of their joke, but fortunately for all Hera stepped in before the situation could escalate.

Ezra, get yourself a glass of water," she said calmly, "and Zeb, now's a good time to lay the table."

She wasn't sure if it was her or their hungry stomachs that made them obey, but her crew did as they were told. She left Kanan to stir the last of the vegetables into the broth as she went to check on Ezra. He was mostly recovered from his first encounter with bisawa, and while she had sympathy from him, every crewmember had at some point been subjected to Sabine's "taste test". It was part of the tradition now.

Soon, they were all sitting down together, rubbing elbows in the cramped space of the galley. Kanan served them each a bowl of warm, rich stew, but remained standing.

"Congratulations, Ezra," he began with a smile. "Finding a kyber crystal and constructing your lightsaber is an important step on your path to being a Jedi; we're all proud of you."

Ezra's face warmed at the attention. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Though I wouldn't have even made it this far without you."

"He's right, love," Hera said. "This isn't just about Ezra's achievement – you're a great teacher for him."

"The best," Ezra agreed.

"To Ezra and Kanan!" Sabine toasted.

"Yeah, yeah," Zeb said. "Can we eat now? The smell is making my mouth water."

With a laugh, they all set about eating their stew. It was delicious. As they ate, each person found themself thinking the same thing: sure, the meal had been perfect before, but just like their crew, it was even better with Ezra's addition.

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 5

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, yearning masturbation, vegan slander, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: Today feels like a really rough day in the US so I wanted to share this new chapter. Hopefully it'll take your mind off things. I've had a really really hard time writing this chapter. Really glad I stuck with it and struggled through. Could not have done this without input and beta from @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre. Thank you my little witches!

🐈‍⬛

With Margot’s reprieve, life with Ezra becomes the new normal. Weeks pass and he’s slotted into your day to day so easily. Grocery shopping, breakfast at the cafe down the street. He comes to work with you. Except now, instead of lounging on top of a dusty bookshelf, he helps man the cash register. 

Despite your aunt’s insistence that she would not under any circumstances be involved with this “conspiracy” (her word), she had pointed you in the direction of a vieling spell that would keep Ezra’s transformation under wraps. You and he cast the ward around town hoping it might buy some time but you’ll have to come clean eventually.

“By Yuletide, you’d better come up with a proper appeal,” Aunt Margot said. “People will ask questions if you’re absent and I’m not going to lie.”

There’s still time and so you choose to enjoy this secret, this new chapter with Ezra.

You’re smiling to yourself as you climb the stairs to the second floor of the Page with a book in your hands. It’s an antique school primer someone just brought in for Margot to appraise. Nothing special except that the little darling that once owned it filled the margins with dirty limericks and pencil sketchings of cock and balls. Some things never change, no matter what century it is. Ezra will get a kick out of it. He probably knows a few lewd poems himself. 

You hang back when you find him beside the front window. Soft morning light falls over the angular planes of his face. There’s a divot in the center of his throat just visible above the collar of his olive sweatshirt that always catches your eye. You still haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that your old pal Ezra is so damn handsome. Not that you’re attracted to him. He’s just attractive. You’ve reminded yourself of the distinction between that many times over the past few weeks. 

But it’s not the cast of the sun that has you hesitating. Ezra’s talking to a customer, his crooked smile revealing the dimple in his cheek, with a tarot deck in his hands.

“And it was the exact image I’d seen when I took ayahuasca,” she says. “The four of cups.”

“Well, cards are certainly prophetic,” he says, his voice edging on a tease. 

You know her— Zoe’s a regular. She moved into town after backpacking through South America, and waitresses at the diner. She comes in to buy crystals from time to time and she’s good for business. Ever since the diner got written up as one of the “hidden gems of the Catskills,” she sends more and more of her customers over to the Page. 

She’s been stopping in even more recently, the shop’s newest doe-eyed employee obviously her motivation. Twice a week you find her in conversation with Ezra. In fact, she’s given up the pretense that she’s actually shopping for anything anymore. 

“Have you ever had your aura photographed?” she asks. 

“No. A picture of me is a rare thing, indeed,” he says. 

Zoe’s the exact kind of mortal Ezra detests– always talking about “getting into wicca” as if magic is a hobby she can try on– but she’s beautiful. She has hazel eyes and razor sharp cheekbones. Her slim arms are tattooed with delicate talismen and her haircuts seamlessly straddle the border between chic and edgy. 

“I know a place down in Woodstock where you can get it done. Next time I’m going, maybe you can tag along,” she offers. 

There’s a sparkle in Ezra’s eye that makes your chest tight.

You retreat to the stairs before you hear his answer. The sensation building in you is a stab, a flare of something bitter and dark. You’re not sure why you’re jealous because you don’t have feelings for Ezra. Okay, maybe a little crush. But you’ve got that in check. You’re not going to fall for your best friend just because he woke up with the most handsome face you’ve ever seen.

And you’re definitely not intimidated by Zoe’s waif-like frame and heavily lidded eyes. Next to her, you look like an ogre. But why would you need to compare yourself to her? And why shouldn’t Ezra get to bang a goddess when he has a mouth that should be sculpted in marble?  

You realize how ridiculous this train of thought is becoming so you shove it down as tightly as you can, actually shaking your head as though this insanity might tumble out of your ear.

“You okay?” 

Zoe’s standing in front of you at the register, the tarot deck set on the counter between you.

“You’re buying something,” you say, though it’s more of a question than a statement.

“This deck has a really good vibe,” she tells you. “Ezra picked it out.”

Hearing her say his name, you’re like a cat with its hair standing on end. 

“He’s got the same name as your cat. Isn’t that funny,” she notes.

“I see how you look at him,” you say. It’s not meant to come out as an accusation but there’s a bite to your words you weren’t expecting. You’re being ridiculous so you decide to prove to yourself once and for all that your feelings are strictly platonic. The faster you see Ezra with someone, the quicker this little crush will die. 

Luckily, Zoe doesn’t notice it. “That obvious, huh?”

“You should take him for a drink. He’d like that,” you say. Something like relief comes over you. Obviously you’re not jealous. If you were, you wouldn’t have tried to set him up.

“You think so?” she asks, glancing back towards the stairs. “I tried to give him my number but he told me he doesn’t have a phone.”

You try to keep yourself from laughing at what a devastating rejection that would be if it weren't true.

“He actually doesn’t,” you say.

“Really?” 

You shrug.

She nods. “That’s smart. The EMF really messes with your brainwaves.”

“Hm,” you say with a noncommittal nod. “Well, I’ll have him send you a letter or something.”

–

Ezra used to trot down the stairs of the bookstore. Now he has to duck to keep his head from smacking into the shelf that hangs over the doorframe. 

It’s taken some time to get used to his body again but after these few weeks, he’s navigating the world with ease. Ezra hasn’t felt this happy in hundreds of years. He’s doing magic for the first time in a long time and he spends his days working in the bookstore. It’s oddly enjoyable even despite the fact that it’s dull and full of silly mortals. Best of all, there’s you. 

He still can’t comprehend how lucky he is to be given this gift. To be yours. Even if he isn’t anymore, not beholden by the fetters of a familiar, he’ll never stop thinking of himself as belonging to you. 

You’re smiling at him as he comes to the counter and he has to resist the urge to nuzzle his head into your shoulder as he used to greet you. If there’s one thing he misses about being a cat, it’s your scratching behind his ears.

“I got you a date with her,” you say.

“The vegan?” Ezra asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a laugh. “The vegan that you shamelessly flirt with.”

Ezra furrows his brow. He was once quite the charmer but he hasn’t intended to do anything more than amuse himself. Over and over, this woman batted her eyelashes at him and Ezra carefully demurred each time. She was pretty. Perhaps some time ago he would have liked to bed her but he has no designs on her now, not when he falls asleep swimming in the scent of your skin each night.

”You shouldn’t have done that,“ he says.

”Why not? She’s so into you,” you reply.

Ezra says nothing because his answer would give it all away. Instead he grabs a handful of bookmarks decorated with pressed flowers and busies himself putting them on a table on the other side of the room. 

“You’ve been celibate for how long?” you go on, following behind.

“No need for reminders.” 

“We need to get you laid!” you say so helpfully. ”Are you blushing?”

If Ezra’s red in the face, it’s only because he’s realizing what a fool he’s being. You’re ready to send him off to another while he’s madly in love with you. He shouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t expect that you were going to suddenly leap into his arms with any of the enthusiasm Zoe’s shown him. Maybe he thought there was some chance, some faint hope that you could belong just as much to him. 

But this makes your feelings so clear. You’re not interested. You’re ready to pawn him off on some ridiculous mortal.

”What’s wrong? She too young for you or something?” you tease. 

Zoe is, no doubt, attractive and she’d made it clear that she’s ready to take him to bed, both facts that should have elated him. The problem was, she wasn’t you. And you were someone he’d never have. 

“I can manage my own matchmaking,“ he grumbles. He moves on to a stack of books, straightening their spines though they’re hardly askew. Anything to keep himself from looking at you, being reminded that you’re off limits.

“Ez, she’s been throwing herself at you.“ 

”I suppose in my time I’ve learned to savor the hunt.“ 

“Oh please. You used to eat out of my hand. You should be thanking me,” you say. 

Thanking you for pushing him into the arms of another. His despair calcifies into a rotten resentment. You don’t want him, you never will. 

“I’d much prefer it if you didn’t involve yourself,” he says. It’s nearly impossible to keep the venom out of his voice.

You scoff. In the corner of his eye, you’re frowning. ”Okay. If I’d known you were going to be such a dick about it, I wouldn’t have bothered,” you say, and then you turn around shaking your head and walk away.

He watches you stomp into the next room, regret flooding him. He shouldn’t be so mean, not to you, but the damage has been done. There’s hardly time to think about it because Margot is breezing in from the back door with Percy riding high on her shoulder, the sound of her bracelets filling the store with their music. Ezra sets his features in as neutral an expression he can manage.

“Oh, Ezra, dear. Just who I was looking for,” she says. “Come here a minute.”

She sets a wide box that’s tied with a grosgrain ribbon on the counter.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Open it.” 

He looks from her to her familiar before he pulls the dark ribbon and lifts the lid. Inside is something he hasn’t seen in a dog’s age. The memories it brings back makes his lips tick up in an absent smile. 

“Robes,” he says. “How did you—?”

“We found a description in Goody Cartwright’s diary in the basement,” Margot said. “Dusted off the old sewing machine.”

Percival scampers down her arm to climb into the box. He crawls beneath a sleeve and lifts the hem in his paws, standing on his hind legs.

“I hope they turned out,” Margot says.  

“Mine were nearly identical,” Ezra says as he wistfully inspects the fabric.

He still remembers the feel of the homespun linen against his skin. His robes always smelled of woodsmoke from the moon revels. They had been stained with wine and goat’s milk, the bottom edge besotted with moss and rainwater.

“It was Percy’s idea,” she says.

The mouse ducks his head bashfully when Ezra looks up at him. 

Ezra swallows down the lump in his throat. He’s moved, jaw gripped as he tries to stop from shedding tears. Another gift he’s not worthy of, compounded by the fact that he’s just upset you again. You were doing for him what you’ve always done– taking care of him, showing him that you loved him. If only he could accept it’s not the way he wants it.

He sets his hand out on the countertop. 

“Percival,” he says. 

After some hesitation, Percy steps into Ezra’s palm. Ezra brings the mouse up so that he sits at eye level. 

“I deserve a much starker retribution from you, friend,” Ezra says. “I hope you’ll forgive my misdeeds.”

Percy cocks his head to the side. 

“He says he’ll think about it,” Margot tells him. 

Ezra grins. He offers a finger which Percy takes in his paw and they shake hands. 

“You can wear them this weekend. Sunday’s your first full moon since you turned,” Margot says. 

Ezra had forgotten all about the phases of the moon. How could he be expected to keep track of such things when there were so many new things to experience?

”We’ll celebrate,” Margot insists.

He wants to protest. Right now he doesn't feel much like frivolity, can’t imagine you’ll want to join in with any festivities when he’s been such a complete and total ass. But he knows he ought to learn his lesson and accept.

“I look forward to it,” he says.

Percy squeaks happily and Margot claps her hands together.

“Come on, Percy! There’s much to be done!” she says before disappearing into the back room.

-

The rest of the day is tense between you and Ezra, with few words exchanged. He’s lived with you long enough that it’s not your very first squabble but, in the past, it was much easier to stay out from underfoot. The apartment feels so much smaller now that he’s human, its walls crushing when there’s silence between you. It’s at its worst when you announce you’re going to bed. It feels cold, lacking an invitation, and so Ezra waits in the kitchen for a long while wondering if you want him beside you at all. 

Some time after you’ve turned off the light, he slinks in nervously. He might as well be sneaking into the bed, though for all intents and purposes, it’s become just as much his as it is yours. He’s shared it with you from that very first night. Neither of you raised the notion of his sleeping elsewhere so it became a habit. He wonders now, more strongly than ever, if he’s overstayed his welcome. 

You lay facing the window but he knows your breathing well enough to see you’re not yet sleeping. He lays on the cold sheets hating himself for loving you, for taking advantage of you, for disappointing you.  

“I shouldn’t have accused you of meddling,” he says quietly.

Ezra has accepted the fact that he’ll have to take this mortal out despite having no interest in her. There’s no good reason not to, as you so aptly showed him, and if he doesn’t you’ll want to know why.

At some point in the late afternoon he decided that he would make the best of it. He would stop kidding himself and accept that you had no romantic feelings for him and try to keep an open mind with Zoe. At the very worst, he’d finally get a long overdue fuck. How could a man mope over that? 

But seeing the slope of your shoulder in the moonlight, your eyelashes fluttering as you turn your face up to the ceiling, makes him realize just how impossible is the task that lies ahead of him. 

You sigh and turn over, sheets rustling with your movement. There’s just enough light in the room to shine in your sweet eyes as you look at him and tuck a hand under your pillow. 

“Ez, it’s okay. I know why you got upset,” you say. 

His heart skips a beat. Of course you know. He’s been so obvious, how could you not see it? He swallows hard, unsure of what he’ll say when you call him out. It feels like an age passes as he waits for you to say the words. 

“You haven’t been with anybody for a long time. If you’re not ready, I get it,” you say and you put a gentle hand over his. 

A little laugh escapes him. How absurdly wrong he’d been. He sinks deeper into his self pity. How could he ever imagine a creature as kind and beautiful as you would want him? A reprobate, hundreds of years old. A fucking cat.

“Yes, well, I suppose if she’s as smitten as you believe I’ve nothing to worry about,” he says. 

A smile cracks across your lips and your gaze melts over his face. You brush your palm across his cheek and Ezra can’t help but close his eyes and lean into the touch of your warm skin. 

“How could she not be?” you say.

Your gaze lingers on him, your expression difficult to read. There’s nothing but the sound of your soft breaths and the whisper of dry leaves outside the window. His heart aches, wishing he could curl himself around you and say the words that live on the tip of his tongue. But the moment passes as you pull your hand back to your side of the mattress and the gulf between you feels wider than ever. He lays awake for what feels like hours wishing he was still a cat so he could sleep in your embrace.

-

You lay on the couch with a book spread open on your lap but you haven’t been able to read a single page. Ezra’s out with Zoe which is fine. Totally fine. You made it happen after all, even gave him some cash for drinks and coaching on the dating scene. 

“I’m newly human but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m well acquainted with the customs and mores of modern courtship,” he protested. 

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” you asked. 

For a moment, you almost fooled yourself into thinking he wasn’t interested in her. He’d been so prickly when you brought it up. There have been times when you wonder. You’ll catch him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter. Or his touch will remain just a moment longer than it needs to, days when you wake up and question if his morning wood is actually for you and not just a fact of human biology. But of course not. And that’s fine.

It’s been a while since you’ve had the apartment to yourself— certainly not in the weeks since Ezra became human— and you’ve had little down time. There’s always some new adventure to take him on. Not that you’re complaining. It’s been the most thrilling time of your life. 

This whole date situation is good, actually, because you could really use a night alone. At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine and lit some incense, cracked open the book. A good start. That’s about all you managed. You keep thinking about how it’s going with Ezra. What could they be talking about? Is he having fun? Maybe he’ll actually like her. Wouldn’t that be….something?

Things could never get romantic between the two of you anyway. You wouldn’t risk your friendship, so many years of trust and affection. It’s too precious to you. Besides, there must be something unethical about dating someone that’s been sworn to serve and protect you.

Not that you want to do that.

You snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table, sitting up. You need to stop being weirdly obsessed with this date. Ezra is your friend, you remind yourself, and you’re excited for him. You just need something more engrossing. 

You put on a period piece. Nothing like a night in with ballgowns and wine. You put your feet up on the table and try to lose yourself in the movie. Ezra is such a pedant when it comes to historical dramas, always pointing out the inaccuracies, complaining about the costumes.

You wish he were here now groaning over the cut of a coat. You wish he was here instead of–

This isn’t working. You know what always clears your mind? A bath. 

The clawfoot tub is filled with oils and herbs, the little bathroom flickers in candle light. You slide deeper into the warm water, focus on the way your muscles unwind. You hadn’t even noticed you were so tense. This was a good call. There’s a knot in your shoulder you massage with your hand. Finally feeling serene, your wet fingers coming to slide across your chest. The water drips peacefully out of the faucet and your cheeks bloom with the alcohol and heat. Maybe Ezra should go on more dates, get the place to yourself more often.

You know what would really make you feel relaxed? Your fingers drift below the water, and skate down your belly and your eyes come to close. It’s been over a month since you got off– Connor (though most of the credit should really go to your passion elixir). It’s been impossible to rub one out with someone else in your bed. At least when Ezra was a cat, he spent a lot of time prowling the woods and being moody. Maybe he’d heard you back then, a thought that somehow equally horrifies and thrills you. 

You touch yourself with a slow, delicate hand and you’re lost in the idea of him watching you now. His chocolate eyes hungry but his body still, the only movement he allows is the rise and fall of his chest. How many times had he seen you, all of you, and not looked away? 

You shiver imagining him, urging you to show him how you take yourself apart. Studying, appreciating. Savoring. Throbbing at each twitch in your brow as you crest and your breath hitches. Even in the water you can feel yourself growing slick, a coil of need winding, and you bite down on your bottom lip. Your mind swirls, your body taught.

He’d be calling you dirty and pretty and good in his flowery prose, stroking your cheek with his knuckles and you unfurl a moan so loud because you don’t have to stay quiet, you’ve got the place to yourself.

Before you’ve even come down from your high, you're flooded with the sting of reality.

No matter how wrong or immoral or risky it is, there’s no denying it– your feelings for Ezra are anything but platonic. And he’s on a date with another woman.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a groan. 

The thought of facing Ezra after this revelation makes your stomach turn. You can almost see him sauntering in, hair mussed, body slack from his sexual conquest. It burns a hole in your chest, a scream practically rising in your throat. And you’ll, what, go on living with him, smelling his musk on your sheets and not go completely insane?

You pull the plug from the drain. So much for the bath. It’s early yet but the only thing you can do to help yourself now is be unconscious. There’s no way you’re going to fall asleep with your thoughts racing so you brew up a sleeping draught in the kitchen. With any luck, you won’t have any dreams either.

-

Ezra’s side of the bed is empty and cold. Mid-morning sun glows on the walls of your bedroom and you’re just waking up, the effects of the potion still making your head groggy. But eventually it dawns on you. He’s not there. 

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Your eyes sting with tears, your gut sinking with the weight of it. You imagine Ezra curled up in bed with her. Morning sex. Breakfast. You want to puke. 

After a long while pulling yourself together, you realize it’s better this way. The last thing you need is to wake up next to Ezra smelling like sex and the patchouli notes of Zoe’s perfume. 

You can’t sulk. You need to get up, get over it.

When you step out of your bedroom, you stop short at the discovery that Ezra’s asleep on the couch. So he didn’t spend the night. It does little to soothe your aching heart. In fact, it somehow feels worse. He looks so perfect, long legs bare and brow smooth, mouth turned down in a pout. It’s not fair you have to survive around a man so perfect.

You go into the bathroom and close the door a little too loud a little on purpose. 

Maybe there’s a potion for falling out of love.

-

Ezra’s dragged himself up by the time you step back into the living room, woken by the slam of the door. He had the damndest time sleeping on that couch. Never realized how lucky he’s been to share the bed. 

You stop outside the bathroom door, arms akimbo, and your oversized sleep shirt rides up your thighs. 

“Well?” you ask. 

Ezra can’t help but smirk at your down to business attitude.

Well indeed. 

Zoe had been fine company. Not hard to look at even if the conversation left a little to be desired. His favorite part of the evening came when Zoe brought up the shop and, in turn, you. It was difficult not to let his words run away from him.

Despite his best efforts, knowing that he should give over and accept this, his mind kept slipping back to his little mage. What you would look like in the little frock Zoe had chosen, the jokes that only you would understand. You’d helped him pick out clothes for the evening, a soft woolen sweater you swore wasn't too tight. All night, he kept remembering the drag of your eyes over his arms before you said, “You look really good.” He wants you to look at him like that all the time.

”She’s not intolerable for a mortal,“ he says. 

“‘Not intolerable.’ Sounds like Ezra for bangable,” you say. “So?”

Perhaps in another universe, Ezra would have had a splendid time, would have debauched himself. He’d left after only two drinks, a look of disappointment on Zoe’s face that he wouldn’t soon forget. Had he been a better man, he would’ve felt worse about it but he couldn’t care about anything but you. As he walked briskly from the bar, he resolved to tell you everything, that he couldn’t stand even the suggestion that he sleep with someone else when you consume him. Good sense be damned. What was the point of being human if he had to live like this?

But he came home to find the apartment dark, your bedroom door shut. He listened there before opening it ajar to see you sleeping peacefully. Reality sunk in, fast and hard. A confession could ruin everything. His home, the only family he knew, the people he loved. He couldn’t risk losing you. 

If he woke you, he’d have you face the question you’d just asked so he’d curled up under the throw blanket on the couch, as he had so many times before.

“I won't make a braggart of myself,” he says, sidestepping the question.

You roll your eyes and head back to your bedroom in a hurry. 

Ezra’s shoulders sag with a deep sigh.

-

Sunday morning in the shop is slower than usual. It’s maddening, leaving you with too much time to meditate on your sorrows as you hide behind the cash register. Every time your eyes land on Ezra, you’re treated to fresh torment. For some reason you can’t stop picturing him fucking her doggy style with wild thrusts of his hips.

“Tea, dear?” Margot asks. Her rings tink against a spoon as she stirs honey into her tea cup. Mint and ginger fills your nostrils. 

You merely grunt in reply but hear her setting another cup out for you. There’s a clink of porcelain and Margot clicks her tongue.

“Your bad mood is sullying the energy in here,” she tuts.

You turn to find her wicking spilled tea off of her hand.

“I’m not in a bad mood,” you say too quickly. 

What kind of mood are you supposed to be in when you realize you’re in love with your best friend who was, until recently, a cat, and said friend spent the night with another woman? When there’s a chance that this was all for naught when the Elders find out and turn you into a newt?

Margot scoffs and lights a stick of palo santo, wafting its smoke in your direction. 

“You’d better not bring that energy into the full moon,” she says. “I don’t need to feel all mopey for the next fortnight.”

You cross your arms. 

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask. Margot’s been welcoming to Ezra but you still feel her ambivalence towards you. It hangs in the air the same as your sour aura. 

“Mad at you,” she repeats, pouring another cup of tea. “Why? Because you implicated me and Percy in a crime that I’m concealing from the Elders? I should be, shouldn’t I?” 

You sink deeper into your frown. Margot hands you the teacup. 

“But I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Besides whatever bee is in your bonnet today,” she adds with an arched brow. “And that’s made me very happy.”

You look at her, your lip quivering. Margot’s been there for you longer than Ezra, taught you everything you know about magic and given you an unconditional love you can hardly fathom even in adulthood. You nearly spill your tea again, setting it aside so you can throw your arms around her.

She stumbles backwards with an “Oof” and chuckles into your ear. Her open palm warms your back.

“It’s all in the stars,” she says.

And, right now, you have to believe she’s right.

-

Through the long sleeves of your velvet dress, you feel the chill in the air. It’s much colder than the last time you were in these woods for the solstice. Of course, this is a much different kind of celebration. The fire is smaller, there’s less paraphernalia involved. It’s just the four of you— you and Ezra, Margot and Percy— but it feels more joyful. 

Margot leads you in a ritual to draw down the moon, then sets out an ornate jar of water to charge in its light. You and Ezra help her cast some spells. She swears the ones done under a full moon have the strongest effect. 

But mostly the night is for merry making. There’s wine and incense and apple cider caramels. Margot perches on a tree stump and plays a few songs on her concertina and Ezra insists that you dance with him.

You do, putting your hands into his and letting him spin you in circles. Margot’s words ring in your ears. You can be happy that he’s happy even if it makes your heart ache. At least now, safe from the rest of the world, hands clasped together, you can pretend. 

Ezra looks so handsome in his new robes, you almost wonder if there’s an enchantment on them. The white patch in his hair glows as if the moon came down and kissed him on the forehead. His cheeks are pink and he’s as breathless as you. 

You’re both laughing when the music ends and you let your hand stay in Ezra’s for a while, wanting the fantasy to last just a little bit longer. 

“Now I must insist on a dance with you,” he says to Margot. He holds out a hand to her but doesn’t let go of yours yet. 

“I’m playing the music!” she says. 

“There must be an incantation that will make that squeezebox play itself,” he says and he slips from your grip to pull her to her feet. 

Percy scrambles off of her lap and hops onto your knee as you flop down on the ground. 

“I’ll sing!” you say.

“Goodness no!” Margot says. 

You all laugh and Ezra releases her after a few twirls.

Since it’s his party, Ezra takes the liberty of sharing his favorite stories. He sits beside you on the ground, animatedly narrating his wildest adventures. You’re pretty sure half of them are pure fabrication but he’s having so much fun recounting them, you don’t question even the most outlandish of details. The fire warms your face. Though, considering how it’s dying down, it could just be his glow. Ezra loves being at the center of attention and you wonder the last time he had the chance to command so much of it. He hasn’t stopped smiling since the sun set, that gorgeous dimple growing deeper with each hour. You love seeing him like this, full of excitement and life. 

Eventually, the moon hangs full overhead and Percy curls up to sleep on Margot’s shoulder. The crackle of the fire slows and you throw your head back to look at the sky dotted with so many twinkling stars. For the first time since Ezra left for his date, you feel peaceful. He’s quiet now and you try to catch another glimpse of him in the dark only to find his dark eyes shining at you. He smiles tenderly, and your whole body warms with affection. You can almost believe it’s a look of longing.

Margot slaps her hands against her thighs and stands, breaking your gaze. 

“Well, I’d better go before I turn into a pumpkin,” she says. 

“Oh, come on. It’s early,” you say. 

“We’ll brew you something to wake you in the morning,” Ezra offers. 

“That’s alright. Enjoy,” she says. Before she heads back into the trees, she takes Ezra’s hand and gives it a squeeze and pats you on the shoulder. 

You’re quiet for a long time, watching the fire die down. It comes back to you, slowly at first, then a flood of emotion, the uncertainty of your future. This night has been a gift but, one way or another, you’re destined to lose Ezra. There’s a melancholy look on his face that hints he might be thinking about the same things. 

“Should we retire then?” he asks after a sigh. 

“Wait. I want to give you something,” you say. Margot arranged this whole evening and you feel like you’ve shown up to a party empty handed.

“You’ve given more than enough.”

“Well, apparently I’ve been putting off really bad vibes. So a protection spell.” You rise to your feet.

Ezra pulls himself up with your help and this time you don’t allow him to let go. You take both of his hands in yours, his rough fingers entwined in your own, and he watches you, with a fond curiosity on his face. He flusters you. His gaze is so intense, you have a hard time meeting his eye.

“Okay,” you say, shaking out your limbs. 

Magic tingles where your palms meet and you notice that his thumb traces yours gently. Having spent the night before without him seems to double the intimacy of the moment. He looks downright beautiful like this, the angles of his face outlined in fire and moonlight. It’s almost unbearable. 

“Ezra,” you start.

His lips part at the sound of his name.

“I protect you with my magic and my spirit,” you say.

He can surely feel it surrounding him like an embrace. It’s so intense, you can barely fill your lungs. His eyes are so soft, round and sweet. They glisten in the darkness. 

“And my heart,” you add, your voice breaking.

You put your palm against his cheek, the pad of your thumb tracing the hairline scar there, to seal the spell and he takes in a sharp little gasp at your touch. There’s a look in his eye, beseeching, and you feel the tug of his magic, drawing you in closer like a knot tightening between you. It’s a whisper, so faint you’re probably imagining it, but you follow it to him, to his lips. 

Before you even realize it, you’re kissing him. Tender and aching and it feels like relief to have his mouth on yours, to taste the wine on his tongue. His lips are soft and hesitant. Your body molds against him, it always does. You’ve been in his arms so many times before and yet it’s never felt more right than this very moment. 

Except that it’s wrong. There are all of those reasons why this can’t be, how awkward it will be when he stops you, when he goes back to sleeping on the couch. Suddenly you’re pulling away despite your body screaming for you to do anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I shouldn’t have– Shit!” You swallow down a lump in your throat.

Ezra holds you firm by your elbows, pulling your hand away from your lips and shaking his head.

“Little mage, I have wanted nothing more for longer than you can know,” he says, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

You stare at him, wide eyed, mouth agape, trying to make sense of his words. Your heart flips and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

And then he kisses you again and again and again.

🐈‍⬛

Comments and reblogs appreciated! Asks always open! I'd love to hear from you!

[foli-vora]

FOLI!!! CONGRATS!! you deserve the world and all the followers, you’re the one writer who has kept me reading on here!! i’m honored to be a part of your readers. thank you for sharing your talent and words with the world. i hope your inbox is full of prompts but i also love a good restful break for you haha. i would love a FLUFFY #16 (“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”) and i’ll let you pick with who! preferably frankie, din or ezra! or maybe frank or matt!

Hey sweet angel, thanks for your request! We're totally ignoring how long this took me, ok?? God I'm so sorry. Thank you so much for being here, I appreciate you! And I hope you enjoy your fluff-fest xo

attention seeker

frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 1.4k  warnings: no use of y/n, swearing, alcohol consumption, brief fainting spell, fluff and sweet drunken declarations, i have missed this man

The night is comfortable and warm, the buzz of the occasional mosquito flying by your ear as you recline into the cheap camping chair Benny had unfolded for you.

It'd been a while since he had successfully pried you out of your weekly take-out and true crime routine, but as he sits next to you now, yelling some shit at his brother across the table and spilling half of his beer in the process, you realise how much you've missed his drunken shenanigans.

And his hot friend pilot friend that you've been crushing on for an embarrassing amount of time that you've also struggled to say more than a few words to all night.

Maybe that's why you keep accepting the shots of tequila Benny keeps pouring. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe tonight's the night you'll go further than 'so how have you been?'.

“You’re wrong. Angel, tell him he’s wrong.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” you grin around your beer, shrugging loosely when Benny throws you a playful glare.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Leave the poor girl alone and just admit you’re wrong, you piece of shit,” Fish pipes up from beside Will, grinning widely at the way the younger Miller turns his gaze of betrayal on him.

He turns that smile on you and you swear you feel it in your damn bones.

"No, fuck the lot of you."

"Oh, Benny boo."

"No. Pope, fuckin' Google it."

"Man, let it go."

The urge for more snacks brings you to your feet and you laugh as the argument continues as you leave the table, the warm familiar rush of alcohol running along your limbs as you all but stumble your way into the humid air of the kitchen.

You hunt through the treasure trove of sweet and savoury treats in the cupboard before reaching for a bag of Doritos, groaning softly when they slip through your loose fingers and land with a light slap at your feet.

Life is too hard sometimes.

Your head spins as you bend to reach them, and you’ve either had too much to drink, or you stand back up too fast, because the last thing you remember is the dizzy spell that assaults your brain and the sudden blackness taking over your vision.

Vaguely you hear someone call out to you through the ringing in your ears, and you don’t quite know whether the arms that suddenly cradle you are real or just a figment of your imagination until you come to.

Sure enough someone’s there, sprawled out on the floor with you and pressed up hard against your back. 

“Hey, you good?” Fish asks, his voice tinged with concern rumbling into your ear. 

Oh, God. Of course it had to be him. It couldn’t have been Benny, or one of the other guys that you felt comfortably at ease around, no. No, it had to be the one that managed to get your stomach flipping and twisting if he so much as glanced your way. 

“I think so,” you mumble, raising a hand to rub along your forehead as the room swims in your vision before slowly coming into focus. “What happened?”

“You fainted—straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

He’s teasing you. A heat bites at the tips of your ears as you smile, and you weakly slap at the arm curled around your waist. You swear it tightens for just the slightest second. Or maybe that's just the tequila swimming in your mind.

“Stop it. I’m so sorry—”

He chuckles, the jump of his chest against your back and your heart warms from the deepness of it. “Don’t be. I’m just glad I was here—don’t want you hitting your head.”

“You're my hero,” you sing quietly as he starts to untangle himself from you, backing away just enough to give you room to sit up on your own.

“Seriously though, are you okay?”

He’s frowning when you look at him over your shoulder, the concern back and twisting the edges of his features. He lifts a hand, the roughened pads of his finger tips dragging across your forehead and leaving butterflies in their wake.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good," you say, smiling as he pulls his hand away and gives you another grin. "Thank you for not letting me hit my head.”

"Happy to help," he shrugs, fixing the ever present hat on his head as he stands before offering you a hand. “You need help getting up?"

You take it gratefully, enjoying the slightest squeeze of his fingers around yours. "I think this might be my safest option."

The shots must be catching up on you all at once, because even with Frankie's hand holding yours, you struggle to stand steadily on two feet let alone find the strength to stand completely with the sudden knock of intoxication assaulting you from all angles.

“Maybe you should sit down for a few more minutes,” he laughs along with you quietly, both hands now steadying as you shakily sink back to the floor. You miss the heat of his hands as soon as they leave your skin.

Humming softly as you shuffle to lean against the kitchen cabinets, your head rolls and threatens to drop as the alcohol continues to swim through your bloodstream but you fight to blink up at him, smiling when you find him watching you with the shadow of concern lingering at the edges of his expression.

“You good?” he asks again, brows coming together.

“Yup,” you hiccup, grinning. “Can you keep me company, Frankie?”

He seems to soften at your question, the concern melting away the longer you manage to stay awake and upright where you’re propped up. He gives you a small smile, something softer, sweeter. 

“I will if you want me to.”

You tap the floor next to you, watching through slightly blurry eyes as he slowly drops into the designated spot and stretches his legs out with a long tired sigh. He must feel you watching him, and he meets your gaze from the corner of his eyes with a slight shine of hesitancy.

“What?”

“This is nice,” you murmur softly, warming when his eyes meet yours fully. “I never get you all to myself—Benny’s always in the way.”

His smile returns, and he dips his head somewhat shyly. “Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re cute as hell.”

He chuckles, hands smoothing along his jeans as he makes himself more comfortable beside you. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Nope, I’ve had just enough. I needed the courage.”

His eyes find you again, this time swimming with obvious curiosity as he studies your expression. “What do you need courage for?”

“God, to just talk to you. You make me all nervous.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know—you’re a nice guy,” you breathe, cheeks aching from your tired smile. “You’re a really nice, really hot guy.”

“Cut it out.”

He laughs again, his shoulder softly bumping into your own and you can’t help the drunken giggle that the small show of playfulness pries from you.

“No, that’s why I have a bit of a crush on you.”

The alcohol has the little confession falling from your lips before your mind even knows what's happening. You don't have time to regret it, though. You don't even think about regretting it. You'll worry about it in the morning.

But he doesn't seem to take the news badly, and it doesn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He merely makes a low noise of thought, the smile now wide along his lips as his head rests back against the cabinet door.

“That’s good to know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I have a bit of a crush on you, too.”

The alcohol burns beneath your skin and you scoff in disbelief, unable to get rid of the smile still tugging away at your lips. Maybe you did hit your head on the way down.

“You do not.”

“I do. Just ask the guys, they give me shit about it all the time.”

“We need to address this in the morning when my brain isn’t so wobbly,” you murmur, your head finally giving in to the heaviness weighing it down as it settles softly on his shoulder.

The tell tale feel of lips press against your head before the soft reassuring warmth of his cheek follows.

“We can do that."

[writeforfandoms]

Take A Chance On Me

I had the itch to write post-canon Ezra. And I'd been thinking about dragons. Because we always need more dragons.

Warnings: Swearing, mystery, dragon hatching, metaphorical leap of faith, time skip.

Word count: 5.3k

You'd owned your bakery for a long time. Long enough that you knew all your regulars, knew the businesses around you. Knew who to talk to when someone came around trying to make trouble. Knew where to get the best ingredients to make soup when someone was feeling poorly. 

So of course you noticed when the bookshop opened. 

The new place opened on the corner - a good spot, lots of foot traffic, lots of opportunity. While hardly the center of the universe, this planet boasted plenty of tourism, with long golden days and easy nights. 

You'd be surprised nobody had opened a bookstore earlier, except for the fact that books came and went in popularity. 

You'd have to keep an eye on this place. See if it lasted. 

The nice thing about owning your own bakery was the stability. Your life never varied much. You got to the shop early every day, had the first pastries ready for the early crews. Kept putting out new items through the day, to keep the workers and tourists alike happy. You closed when things got quiet, or read at the counter for a couple hours, whatever felt better that day. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You didn't think much of it the first time a blonde teen came in and bought a few things. She didn't smile, but she did thank you. 

Life kept on, as it had for a long time, as it would for longer. 

At least, you assumed it would keep on the same way it had been. 

Except that two things happened. 

The first was a gift, from a long time regular. Stryker had been one of your first true regulars, always spared some time to chat with you, had taste tested every new item on your menu. 

His smile as he handed over the box to you was sad, bittersweet. Wrinkled hands captured yours once you had the box securely in your grip. 

“You take care of that, now,” he said, eyes as bright as the noon sky holding yours. “Promise me.”

“I'll take care of it,” you agreed, confused but willing to agree. “I promise.”

His grip relaxed and he nodded. “Good. Good. Always been a good one, you have.” He smiled again, swallowing once. “Take care of yourself, too, y'hear?”

“I will.” The sudden foreboding tightened your throat, and your hands gripped the box even tighter. “You too, okay?”

He just nodded at you, slow and solemn, and took a step back. He turned and walked away, hesitating for a moment on the threshold. You thought you saw his shoulders hitch. 

You never saw him again. 

The box contained a weird egg-shaped thing. The surface of it was rough under your fingers, not unlike exposed rock, and ranged from sandy to dirty. It was, however, clean, leaving no traces in the box or on your fingers. 

Honestly, you had no idea what to do with it. So you left it in the box in your bedroom. 

The second thing was another newcomer. He wouldn't have been all that interesting on his own, although he was quite good-looking. The little blonde streak in his hair especially caught your eye as it shone in the light coming in the window. 

“Cee told me she got pastries here the other day,” he started, gaze flicking greedily around the case. “I tried one, haven't tasted anything so good in years. As soon as I wrested the location from her, I knew I simply had to come for myself.” 

“Cee?” You couldn't help but smile at the sheer flow of words, a little charmed. 

“My ward. Blonde girl, too serious for her own good, quiet until you get to know her.” He darted a smile at you, looked back to the case, and then looked back to you. 

“Ah, I remember her. She shared with you?” You resisted the urge to grab a box, although he looked like a man who would get more than one pastry. 

“She did, with much persuading and wheedling.” He didn't look back at the pastries this time. 

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to come in.” You smiled pleasantly, though you also didn't look back at the cases. There was something about his gaze, something magnetic. 

“Oh, if the rest of these are as good as the first I had, I suspect I shall be back as often as I can manage.” His smile kicked up a notch, from friendly to flirty, even as his gaze warmed. 

You warmed too, undeniably flattered but unwilling to make it so easy for him. “Well, then, what do you want to try today?”

He finally looked away from you, fingers of one hand drumming against his thigh as he debated. You finally noticed the pinned back sleeve on his other arm, and decided not to comment.

Plenty of jobs in the galaxy ended up being dangerous. 

“I fear you have too tempting a selection,” he said, looking back to you. “Perhaps you could choose for me? Four of your most popular.” 

You considered him for a moment, head tipping a little to one side. Then you nodded and unfolded a box. 

He wanted a surprise, huh? Half and half it would be.

You grabbed two sweet pastries and two savory for him. It was perhaps a gamble - most people were surprised by the savories the first time, but they were extremely popular around lunch time. 

“See how you like these.” You put the box on top of the case between you two, a little startled to find he was watching you, brown eyes assessing. 

“I'm sure I will enjoy every one of these.” He winked at you. “Now, how much do I owe you?” 

You told him, knocking off a couple credits just because you liked him. 

He paid and took his box, holding it carefully to avoid crushing any pastries inside. 

“Just in case chatter hasn't yet gotten here,” he started, pausing by the door to look back at you, “I own the bookshop down on the corner. Come by any time, don't be a stranger.” He tipped the box to you in salute before he left. 

You hummed softly, leaning one hip against the case. So. He was the owner of the bookshop. 

Intriguing. Perhaps you would have to go pay that place a visit. 

You turned off the lights for the night, locking up the shop. Even with the ovens off for the night, the shop kept warm. When the weather warmed again, you'd need to keep the door open so your customers wouldn't complain of the heat. 

You patted the strange egg thing on your way to bed. The bumps and scratches against your skin felt the same as always, and you thought nothing more of it. 

You didn't think anything more of it for days, really. You had other things on your mind. 

Like the bookshop, and the handsome man who owned it. 

You'd met many people in your time here. None of them quite as intriguing as Ezra. 

There was just something about him. Something almost magnetic. More than just the intrigue of a new face, and new shop owner. 

Maybe you'd close up early one day and go investigate. One day soon. 

It had been a while since you'd had new reading material just for fun. 

Any thoughts of pleasure reading vanished when you went up to bed that night. 

The egg shook under your hand. Just a little. Not enough that hatching seemed imminent, but you still paused. 

That… was unexpected. 

It trembled again, less energetically this time. Hopefully that didn't mean anything bad. 

Just in case, you brought the egg next to your bed, hoping you'd wake if anything happened. 

It took a long time to get to sleep, and staying asleep proved impossible. 

But the egg didn't crack open overnight. Neither did it seem to die, still warm when you touched it that morning. 

Just in case, you carried it with you to the shop. 

But it didn't move all day. Didn't stir. It didn't fade, either, still warm and rough under your fingers when you checked. 

You had absolutely no idea what to do. 

“You are a mystery,” you muttered to the egg, unsure what else to do. “I don't know what to do with you. Why did Stryker give you to me?” 

The egg didn't respond, which was good, because a response would have been much worse. 

You did finally think about where you could find out more about eggs. 

Books. Of course. 

Sometimes you were a fucking idiot.

Still paranoid that something would happen to the egg while you weren't watching, you found an old pack to carry with you, stuffing the egg inside with a sweater for some padding. 

And then you locked up and headed for the bookstore, still cursing yourself for an idiot. 

A bell over the door jingled softly as you let yourself in, and you paused for a moment to take in the space. The smell of books, paper and ink and age, filled the space, different from your own shop but still nice. Shelves filled the walls and took up a fair bit of the open space throughout the shop, creating little nooks and cubbies hidden away from the world.

Which you discovered a half dozen steps into the shop. Cee sat on a cozy recliner, afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows next to her, turning the entire space orange-gold. Her hair fell around her face, one knee up to help brace the spine of the book in her hands. You vaguely recognized the cover - some story popular with the younger crowd, part of a series, if you recalled correctly. You'd heard customers talking about the books before. 

You didn't disturb her, leaving her to her reading as you ventured further into the shop. The egg rustling against your back reminded you of your purpose, giving you a much-needed kick in the rear. 

No more distractions. You needed to find any books on husbandry and creatures you could. 

Naturally, you ran straight into Ezra, almost literally. 

He blinked, startled, and then smiled. “Well, I must admit I hadn't expected to see you so soon! What brings you in today? Anything I can help you find?” 

You smiled, a little nervous, a little awkward. “I'm just kinda looking,” you hedged, shifting your weight. For all that you liked Ezra, you didn't know if you trusted him yet. 

“For fun or for a purpose?” He didn't press any closer, simply waiting for you with a small smile on his lips, and curious eyes. 

“Trying to look up some stuff about animals.” There, that was safe enough. 

His eyebrows raised but he half turned, motioning you to follow. “Thinking of keeping a pet? I'll admit Cee has been asking after one for the shop, though I am not convinced.”

Your smile felt very awkward, especially when the egg wiggled against your back. “Yeah, the thought has crossed my mind,” you lied. “Figured I'd do some research.”

“A very sensible approach,” he agreed, turning down an aisle, bookcases obscuring your view of the rest of the shop. You couldn't even hear the outside now, the world muffled and far away in the confines of the shop. “Here we are. I admit it is not the biggest section, but there's not been much call for it as of yet.” 

“I'm sure it will be a good starting point,” you said, stepping closer to the shelves to start looking at the titles. “Thanks.” 

Ezra nodded, though he lingered for a few moments. Then he smiled. “Holler if you need anything,” he said, stepping back away from you. 

You nodded, watching him go until he turned a corner and vanished into the depths of the store. You turned back to the books, taking a deep breath to brace yourself. 

You ended up sitting on the floor, a small stack of books next to you, flipping through pages trying to find anything that matched the description of your egg. 

So far, nothing matched. Nothing even came close, between the size and the texture. 

You dropped your head with a soft groan, pushing back to your feet to put books back away. Nothing had helped you, and the egg still shook in your backpack, more vigorous now. 

That made you nervous. You did not want it to hatch. You really were not prepared. At all. 

“Are you finding anything useful?” 

You jumped, nearly dropping the couple books still in your hands. It took a few moments of fumbling to right everything, yourself included. 

“I apologize,” Ezra said, hand extended and hovering near your elbow in case you needed help. “I didn't realize you were so deep in your research.”

“It's fine,” you said, heart still hammering away in your chest. “I just didn't hear you coming.”

“Happens often here,” he said with a rather wry smile. “The number of times Cee has snuck up on me is, frankly, appalling.” 

You managed a little laugh, putting the last couple books away before anything else could happen to them. “I'm not surprised. Easy to get distracted in here.” 

“It is indeed.” He eyed your empty hands, his own falling back to his side. “Haven't found what you need yet?” 

“No.” You sighed. “Not yet.” 

“I could help you search?” He watched you as he offered, curious and hopeful.

You paused, uncertain if you should take him up on his offer, not sure if you could trust him. 

The egg made the decision for you. It rocked violently, the crack audible even through the sweater packed around it. 

You both paused, and you swallowed. 

“Are you sure I cannot help you with something?” He shifted closer, watching you carefully now. 

“I suppose that depends.” You carefully removed your backpack, shifting it around to your front. 

“On?” 

“If I can trust you to keep a secret.” 

He considered you for a moment, apparently thinking through something. Then he nodded. “I find myself enjoying life here, and unwilling to risk it. I will keep your secrets.” 

You opened your backpack, the egg inside cracked straight down the middle, both sides moving as the thing inside tried to break free. The constrained space inside the backpack made it harder, the cracks slowly spreading.

Ezra hissed out a breath, chancing a quick glance around. “Close that,” he said, quiet but urgent. “We need to go somewhere more private for this.”

“Do you know what it is?” You closed the backpack again, following Ezra as he wound through the stacks and to the back. He held open the door for you, ushering you further into the room, cramped with stacks of extra books and a small table. 

“I have a suspicion,” Ezra admitted, clearing a few papers off the table with quick motions. “But I cannot say for certain until we've seen what exactly emerges from this shell.” 

You set your backpack on the table and carefully pulled the egg out, still packaged snugly in your sweater. No sooner had you put the whole little nest down on the table than the egg split, half of it falling away. 

Big garnet-red eyes blinked up at you, the skin colored the same as the egg. It uncurled slowly, stretching out stubby legs. It chirruped at you, soft and cute even though it was still damp from hatching. 

And you had no idea what it was. 

“Kevva,” Ezra muttered next to you, awed and cursing both. 

“You know what this is?” You half-turned to look at him. 

“I've never seen one,” he said, gaze still fixed on the thing. “Heard stories though, from other prospectors, other travelers.”

“And?” You frowned at him. You wouldn't have guessed he was a prospector, but it did make sense. That could be a very dangerous job, from what you understood. 

“It’s a dragon.”

“What?” This time, the word was breathed, soft and disbelieving. 

“It must be,” he continued, his hand slowly moving towards the hatchling, though he paused when it made a less than happy sound. “I've heard tell that people can hatch ‘em, if you're lucky. Where did you get the egg?” He shot you a look, half curious, half assessing. 

“It was a gift.” You spoke through numb lips, cold with shock, even as the dragon wobbled closer to you. Clearly, coordination was not a skill baby dragons had just yet. 

“A very generous gift,” he observed, still watching you. “Not the kind of gift I'd expect of just a friend.”

You shook your head slowly. “He was a regular,” you said slowly, lifting one hand. Unlike when Ezra tried, the hatchling trilled at you and nosed into your palm. “I haven't seen him since.” 

Ezra hummed soft acknowledgement of that, watching you and the hatchling. “It’ll need food,” he said, changing the subject. “I do believe I have some suitable fare in my kitchen, if you can wait.” 

You blinked, thrown by the change in subject, but nodded. He slipped out quietly, the door clicking shut after him. 

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the hatchling, not expecting an answer. 

The hatchling chirruped and cuddled closer to you. You wrapped your now-ruined sweater around it, trying to keep it warm. 

Ezra reappeared with a bowl of sliced meat, setting it down next to you and the hatchling. “Watch your fingers,” he advised. “Most things have sharp teeth. Even babies.” 

You nodded your thanks to him, feeding bits carefully to the baby, who ate ravenously. 

“Thank you for all your help,” you told him in between feeding the hatchling. “I don't know what I would have done on my own.” 

He shot you a quick smile. “I am happy to help, although I do wonder at your willingness to trust someone you hardly know.” 

You snorted softly. “Well, for one, the timing was awful. Didn't leave me a lot of choice,” you grumbled, albeit half-heartedly. This went deeper than just the timing, and you had a feeling he knew it too. Especially since he stayed quiet, waiting you out. “I just… had a feeling. About you.” Your cautious glance at him revealed only that he was still watching you. 

He let the silence linger another beat, two. Then he spoke softly. “I would say that trusting your gut, while often a good start, is not the only course of action you should take. However, in this particular case, it has not led you astray. I told you earlier that I enjoy this life, and I didn't lie. I've no wish to ruin things for myself, or for Cee. Your secrets are safe with me.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, warmed by his honesty. You did startle a little when the hatchling pushed into your midsection, apparently not content with the nest. It didn't stop nudging you until you picked it up and held it close, and then it finally relaxed with a happy little meep. 

The two of you stood quietly for a few moments, both looking at the dragon. You had no idea what to do next, too overwhelmed to think properly. Ezra… you couldn't guess at what he thought. 

“I need to close up the shop,” he said finally, shifting his weight. “Give me a few minutes, if you will, and I'll happily escort both you and your little companion home.” 

“You don't have to,” you demurred, though the offer pleased you. 

“Always happy to help a friend.” He winked at you and slipped out of the room again. 

Friend. You liked the sound of that. 

It took a bit of doing to get the dragon back in your backpack, carefully hidden away. She chirruped but settled down again, hopefully to take a nap. You hoped she would at least stay quiet. 

“Cee is upstairs for the moment,” Ezra told you as he opened the door for you. “The route is clear for us to avoid any pesky questions.” 

“Are you calling Cee pesky?” You smiled though to reassure him you were only teasing. 

“Oh she is much more than pesky,” he replied cheerfully, expertly herding you out the front door. “She is smart, perceptive. Good memory. Not much for talking, though, unless you happen to engage her about one of her stories. She is absolutely a menace.” 

You laughed at not only the joy but pride in his voice. “You care for her a great deal.” 

“We have been through a lot together, her and I. That is the kind of bond that does not easily dissipate.” He shrugged with one shoulder, half-smiling. “Never would have thought of myself as the settling type, yet here I am.”

“Life has a way of changing things,” you agreed. “Hopefully for the better, overall.” 

Ezra nodded his agreement. “You sound as if you speak from experience.” 

Your smile turned wry, a little sad. “I didn't always run the bakery on my own. It's better this way.”

Ezra didn't press, simply nodded. Clearly he understood enough. 

You unlocked the door behind the bakery, which led up to your apartment. You paused for a moment, considering, before focusing on him. “Want to come up? I could use the help getting this one settled and figuring out… everything.” 

He huffed a soft laugh. “I'm glad to help,” he agreed, stepping in behind you. 

The climb up the stairs was silent save for your footsteps, and you unlocked the door to your apartment. 

You hadn't been expecting a guest, but you weren't bothered. You usually kept things fairly clear. Fortunately for you. 

“So, what do you think I'll need?” You carefully took the backpack off again, opening it to check on the hatchling. Fast asleep, body lax in sleep. 

“Someplace for it to sleep,” Ezra suggested. “It won't take long to outgrow that backpack. At least, I assume so. I'm uncertain how big exactly that little one will get.” 

“Lovely.” You sighed and set the backpack down in a chair for the moment, already thinking of what you could do. “It liked the meat, so I guess I'll need that on hand all the time.”

“Only if you don't want it finding ways to feed itself,” he said, only half-joking. 

“What else?” You planted your hands on your hips, masking how worried you were. 

“Well.” Ezra looked around your apartment, doing a slow circle to take it in. “You'll learn as it grows, I'm sure. I've heard that dragons enjoy keeping hoards, although I am uncertain what it will hoard. It may not. Haven't heard of anyone keeping a dragon in a long time. You may well be the first in this system.”

“Lovely,” you muttered under your breath, less than thrilled with the prospect. You didn't want exceptional. You liked your boring life. 

Although a sneaky part of you still whispered that someone to share your boring life with would be welcome. 

“Well, thanks. I suppose we'll see how this goes.” 

Ezra nodded, clearly taking those words as dismissal and turning for the door. 

“If you're not busy, you could stay for dinner?” You surprised yourself with the offer, but you didn't rescind it. So far, he had proven to be good company. And he had called you a friend. Even if there was nothing else there between the two of you, even if your low-simmering attraction to him amounted to nothing more, it would still be nice to have company sometimes. 

His smile warmed you through, nervous flutters taking up residence in your stomach. “That is a very fine offer,” he started, and your stomach sank. He held out his hand though, wordlessly asking you to wait. “But if I may make a counteroffer. Allow me to take you out to dinner.” 

You blinked. That. That was a step up. And it could still be a friendly overture, but maybe… “I'd like that,” you agreed. “I'd really like that.” 

He smiled, stepping closer to you. “Good, because I find I would very much like to treat you. As often as you'd let me.” 

“Let's see how this one goes first,” you said with a smile, taking a chance and holding out one hand to him. 

He took your hand, using it to tug you closer. “I have a vested interest in making sure it goes well, and I can be quite persuasive when I have a mind to.” 

You smiled. “Well, then. Sounds promising. For both of us.” 

“For both of us, huh? I like that.” He grinned. “How about we figure it out more over dinner? You can show me your favorite place.” 

“Sounds like a promising start.” You smiled in agreement, turning towards the door. The hatchling would be fine for a little while. 

This was worth taking the time.

–

You sighed, short and sharp, upon seeing the state of the back room, having just closed up the front of the bakery. A damning trail of fruit bits went from their proper storage bag, now chewed through, to Hunter's favored perching spot up atop the big stand mixer. You could even see a couple bits in the bowl of the stand mixer, which you'd have to clear out before making anything in the morning. 

Hunter herself perched on the top, tail whipping back and forth, deep green scales glinting in the light. She'd grown, but not overmuch, still able to perch across your shoulders. But you'd seen for yourself that she was a ruthless hunter, defending her territory from any intruders. 

“Hunter,” you growled, planting your hands on your hips. 

At your tone, Hunter fled, spreading her wings and jumping from the stand mixer to flap across the room to the stores of flour and sugar. She knew that she wasn't supposed to get into the fruit. 

“Don't you fly away from me,” you scolded, stomping across the room after her. She squeaked and flapped away again, this time diving past you towards the front of the shop. “Hunter!” 

She flew through the open doorway, claws clattering against the top of the display cases. You groaned, long and loud, head tipping back to glare at the ceiling. 

“Overgrown lizard,” you swore to yourself. “I could make a fair few credits selling you, you know. Or leave you to Ezra. You wouldn't like that.” 

The yearling hissed, just a little. Despite the year that had passed between her hatching and now, and the fact that she saw Ezra almost every day, she still didn't really like the former prospector. 

Which was a problem, as he had become your lover, too. 

You shook your head, frustrated but unwilling to chase Hunter around. 

“Fine, sulk in there,” you called, turning your back to the shop. “I need to clean up your mess.” 

Sure enough, you'd only been cleaning for a few minutes when Hunter flapped back into the back room, perching on your work table. 

You spared her a glance and reached over, scratching above her eye. She tipped her head into your hand with a purr, eyes sliding closed in clear pleasure. 

“You're lucky you're cute,” you said half-heartedly, ire having cooled. Now, you were simply tired. 

She chirruped and, when you paused petting her, scrambled carefully up your arm to perch on your shoulder. You snorted softly but didn't object. 

“You just get bored, huh?” You reached up one hand to pat her head. “I know. Poor thing. Maybe I'll take you over to play with Cee tonight, hmm?” 

Hunter chirruped in clear approval of that idea, claws flexing against your top. 

As soon as you had finished cleaning, you pulled out the backpack. Not the original one, but a new one you'd purchased some months ago. This one had reinforced bottom and sides to help it keep its shape. 

You'd learned quickly that Hunter didn't like to be in a soft backpack after your first one died a violent death. 

Hunter hopped into the backpack obediently, settling in as you zipped it most of the way closed, leaving only a little open at the top for her to sniff. You shouldered the backpack and locked up behind you, taking a moment to breathe in the cooler evening air. 

There was still time before Ezra would close up shop, so you detoured briefly to pick up dinner for the three of you. Carry out, from a place you'd discovered with Cee. The young woman had ended up more adventurous than you would have guessed, and had no troubles dragging you along to try every new place that opened within walking distance. 

So you knew dinner would be well received when you let yourself into the bookstore. 

Cee, ravenous youngster that she was, appeared from the aisles of books first. She liberated one of the bags of food from you with a swift kiss to your cheek and ran off for the stairs heading up to their apartment. 

Ezra was slower to appear, more leisurely. His kiss as he greeted you was more leisurely, too. 

“Only have one person left,” he murmured, his hand settling at your hip. “I shall give them another five minutes before I close up. Go on upstairs, I'll be along as soon as everything here is sorted for the night.” 

“I'll try to make sure Cee doesn't eat it all,” you agreed, smiling. “Don't be long.” You pressed one more kiss to his lips before you followed Cee.

The upstairs apartment was plenty big for the two of them, comfortable and warm now. It had taken some time for personality to pop up, but now you could see the two of them mingling in the decor. Posters and younger books favored by Cee, vistas of far away places per Ezra. It was an interesting mix, but a cozy one. 

“You're the best,” Cee told you with feeling, having already unpacked the food and hoarded away her favorite dish. “Ezra was going to make us eat the leftovers from three nights ago.”

“How awful,” you drawled, amused despite yourself. “The horrors.” 

“You know he's not the best cook,” Cee complained, sticking her fork in her food. 

“Well, you won't have to worry about it tonight.” You opened the backpack, and Hunter let herself out with a cheep, promptly scampering around the floor before hopping up on the couch, and from there to the windowsill. 

“She still getting into trouble?” Cee asked around a mouthful of food. 

“Often,” you agreed with a sigh. “She got into the dried fruits earlier. I'm hoping this is just a youngster phase, and she'll grow out of it.” 

Cee giggled, trying futilely to smother it. Your lips twitched in response and you looked down at your food. 

Hunter announced Ezra by hissing at him, back arching and wings flaring to make herself look bigger. 

“Lizard,” Ezra drawled, as he always did. 

“You're not earning yourself any points with her that way,” you pointed out, smiling. 

“Perhaps I am less concerned with earning her favor, and more concerned with keeping yours.” Ezra stooped to kiss your forehead, taking his place at your side and balancing his food expertly so he could eat one-handed. 

“Hmm. Can't tell you if that's a good choice.” You winked at him, pressing briefly into his side before you continued eating. 

Cee cleaned up after dinner without prompting, and then promptly vanished into her room. Hunter slithered in after her just before the door shut. 

“Alone at last,” Ezra joked, pulling you closer until the two of you stood pressed together. 

“For the moment,” you agreed, raising your arms to wind around his neck. “We're probably free of the kids for the evening.” 

“Stay the night?” He pressed his hand to your lower back, keeping you right where he wanted you. 

“I'll have to be up to leave early,” you warned him, not a no but just a reminder. “Very early.”

“I can return to sleep after you leave,” he said, unbothered. “I'd much rather have the extra time with you tonight.” 

You smiled at him, curling your fingers through the ends of his hair. “Then I'll stay.” Your lips pressed to his, sealing the promise. 

Just one more night of many. And many to come. 

[fellthemarvelous]

The Mystery of Chopper Base foreshadowed Ezra's exile.

Ezra's anxieties about Malachor brought him to Zeb. He was headed to a Sith temple with Kanan and Ahsoka, and it was with Zeb that Ezra was able to show his more vulnerable side.

He said it. "I don't know when we'll be back. Or if we'll be back."

And the thing is...the Ezra who came back from Malachor is not the same Ezra.

The new Ezra that came back was traumatized, angry, defeated, grieving, and he blamed himself for just how sideways their mission to Malachor went. This new Ezra started wielding a green lightsaber and came very close to falling to the dark side if Kanan had not been there to pull him back from the edge.

This Ezra came back jaded and vengeful and guilt-ridden after Maul blinded Kanan, and he and Kanan had been forced to leave Ahsoka behind with Vader while the Sith temple collapsed around them.

This Ezra came back with a Maul shaped shadow doing everything possible to make Ezra his new apprentice.

This Ezra survived against Darth Vader for a second time (because someone else was there to save him).

Ezra was already grieving the death of his parents when Malachor happened. Malachor hurt everyone in his family. He brought Kanan back to Hera physically injured and forever changed, and he wasn't able to bring Ahsoka back to Rex at all.

But despite the grief that everyone was experiencing, they persevered. Hera continued on with the mission and Rex spent just as much time pulling Ezra back towards the light as Kanan and Sabine did.

Hera and Kanan's final conversation before Malachor ended up becoming a reality. Kanan regained his vision and was able to look at Hera in his final seconds of life.

Ahsoka and Rex's final conversation was the very first scene in the Twilight of the Apprentice, and it was over Space Facetime. Rex was so nervous about Ahsoka going without him and she had to remind him that she was not alone. Rex is used to mourning his brothers. He's done it thousands of time. He's used to seeing his own face die over and over again. Losing Ahsoka would be different though. She wasn't a clone trooper, but she was still a soldier just like him. She was his best friend, his closest ally, someone he trusted with his life more times than he could care to count. They were each other's sword and shield.

Ezra understands these bonds. It's what his bond with Sabine was becoming.

And all of them (with the exception of Kanan because my boy sacrificed his life to save the people he loved, and Ahsoka because we don't even know when she is, let alone where she is at this point) followed Ezra into battle to take Lothal back from the Empire. They freed Lothal from the grip of Darth Sidious, but Ezra didn't get to see it happen. He was somehow surviving a long ass trip through hyperspace with space whales and a very pissed off Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He spends ten years in exile, alone, on another planet in a distant galaxy with a ship full of stranded Imperials nearby and always ready to kill him, but he still manages to find a new family, traveling with them and protecting them, grieving his loss and becoming more attuned to the Force.

The Ezra that Sabine finds is so much like the Ezra that she first met on Lothal. He doesn't seem to be carrying a heavy burden, but he knows he needs to get back home because Thrawn is a Big Problem, and he's had ten years learning how to outsmart the Imperials and the Nightmothers.

He's returning home with a lightsaber that matches Kanan's and he's about to meet Kanan's son Jacen for the first time.

The empire is toppled now but he and Zeb will have plenty of war stories to trade when they see each other again, especially as the threat of the Empire's return is rising again.

[missladym1981]

Ok let’s try this again shall we? Marcus Pike kept getting cut out of my damn photo but I finally got him to stay . Again, sorry. Here once again is the damn ledger.

Top row from left to right

1. King Lear- Edmund

2. Lobby Hero- Jeff

3. Much Ado About Nothing- Don John

4. Maple and Vine - Roger

5. Sand- Ahmed

6. Hamlet- Horatio

7. Trolius and Cressida- Thersites

8. Lorenzaccio-Piero Strozzi

9. Orphans - Phillip

10. Graceland - Juan Badillo

11. Nikita- Liam

12. Red Window- Jay Castillo

13. The Sixth Gun- Special Agent Ortega

14. CSI - Kyle Hartley

15. Old Comedy from Aristophanes Frogs- Diony

16. Body of Proof - Zach Goffman

Second row Left to Right

17. The Mentalist - Marcus Pike

18. Burn Notice : the fall of Sam Ace- Comendante Veracruz

19. Wonder Woman - Ed Indelicato

20. Law and Order SVU- Special Agent Greer

21. Charlie’s Angels- Fredrick Mercer

22. Brothers and Sisters - Zach Wellison

23. Lights Out- Assyrian

24. The Good Wife - Nathan Landry

25. Law and Order- Tito Cabassa

26. Without a Trace- Kyle Wilson

27. Law and Order CI- Reggie Luckman

28. NYPD Blue- Shane “ Dio “ Morrisey

29. Touched by an Angel - Ricky Hauck

30. undressed- Greg

31. Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Eddie

‘Third row Left to Right

32. TWMT- Javi Gutierrez

33. If Beal Street Could Talk- Pietro Alvarez

34. The Great Wall - Pedro Tovar

35. We Can Be Heros - Marcus Moreno

36. WW84- Maxwell Lord

37. Bloodsucking Bastards- Max Phillips

38. Kingsman : The Golden Circle- Agent Whiskey

39. The Equalizer- Dave York

40. Prospect- Ezra

41. Triple Frontier- Frankie Morales

‘Row 4 left to right

42. The Bubble- Dieter Bravo

43. House Comes With A Bird - Nico

44. Strange Way of Life- Silva

45. Freaky Tales- Clint

46. Drive-Away Dolls- Santos

47. The Uninvited- Lucien Flores

48. The Mandalorian - Din Djarin

49.Game of Thrones- Oberyn Mother Fuckin Martell

Final row of epicnessssssss left to right

50. The Materialist- TBA

51. Narcos- Javier Peña

52. The Last of Us- Joel Miller

53. Gladiator ll- General Marcus Acacius

54. Merge Mansion- Tim Rockford

55. SNL- Mr. Ben

56. Fantastic Four- Reed Richards

57. The Wild Robot- Fink

58. Housebroken- Claude

Sorry again for the fuck up. Sometimes shit happens but they are fixed now. Thank you have a good night

[tashs-stories]

District Baby In The Capitol🔱🩵

Finnick Odair × Fem!OC

Finnick Odair, the Capitol darling, was a name whispered on every lip and adored by countless hearts. To the outside world, he was a vision of charm and allure, a man who had captivated the Capitol with his striking features, effortless charisma, and tragic allure. But behind the carefully constructed facade of his life, there was a secret he guarded fiercely: he was a father.

His daughter, Briar-Sea Odair, was his anchor to a world far removed from the glitz and cruelty of the Capitol. Just two years old, she was a beacon of purity and light in Finnick’s otherwise tumultuous life. She had her mother's crystal blue eyes, framed by lashes so long they looked like they’d been painted on, and a crown of golden blonde hair that shimmered like sunlight. Every time Finnick looked at her, he felt an ache—equal parts joy and sorrow—because he knew his time with her was fleeting.

Her mother, Pearl, had been a Capitol girl born into privilege. Their story wasn’t the fairy tale it appeared to be on the surface. Pearl had once been indifferent to Finnick, seeing him as just another pawn in the games her father played. She was beautiful, sharp-tongued, and stubborn, never one to fall for Finnick’s Capitol persona. But her father, a wealthy Capitol businessman, had paid for Finnick’s company more than once. What started as cold and transactional grew into something warm and undeniable.

Finnick had fallen for her because she was different—someone who saw the cracks in his armor and never looked away. And Pearl, in time, fell for the man beneath the mask: the kind, fiercely protective soul hidden behind the Capitol darling’s smile.

At just 22, Pearl discovered she was pregnant with Briar-Sea. Finnick was overjoyed and terrified. He vowed to protect them, but life in the Capitol was a cage with gilded bars, and Finnick was bound by invisible chains.

---

When Finnick could visit them, those stolen moments felt like a dream. He would cradle Briar-Sea in his arms, pressing soft kisses to her tiny forehead, and whisper, “My little sea star, Daddy loves you so much.” Her giggles were his favorite melody, and every touch, every laugh felt like a lifeline.

Pearl would sit nearby, watching the two of them, her heart torn in two. She loved Finnick and saw how much he adored their daughter, but she also saw the weight he carried—the Capitol’s demands, the fear of exposure, and the pain of being unable to protect the people he loved most.

“Finnick,” Pearl said one evening as Briar-Sea dozed in his arms. They were sitting on her couch in her luxurious Capitol apartment. “We need to talk about the Quell.”

He stiffened, his smile fading as he gazed down at his sleeping daughter. “Not tonight, Pearl,” he whispered.

“Finn,” her voice broke, and he looked up at her. Tears glistened in her blue eyes. “You can’t pretend it isn’t happening. They’re sending you back.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely, his grip on Briar-Sea tightening. “But I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

Pearl reached out and cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “Then we make the most of the time we have,” she said firmly. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll pay for you to be here every moment you can. You’re her father, Finnick. She needs you. I need you.”

---

Over the next few weeks, Pearl made good on her promise. She spent a fortune ensuring Finnick could spend as much time with them as possible. Those weeks were a blur of stolen happiness and unbearable heartbreak.

Finnick would wake up to the sound of Briar-Sea’s laughter as she toddled around the apartment, her tiny feet pattering against the marble floors. He’d chase her around, scooping her up and spinning her in the air as she squealed with delight.

“Again, Daddy!” she’d cry, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with joy.

And he would, over and over, because he wanted to memorize her laugh, her smile, the way she felt in his arms.

At night, he and Pearl would sit on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle below them.

“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Finnick asked one night, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pearl’s breath hitched, and she reached for his hand. “Of course she will,” she said, her voice trembling. “We’ll talk about you every day. I’ll show her the shells you brought her, the stories you told. She’ll know who her father is.”

Finnick nodded, but the doubt lingered. He didn’t trust the Capitol to let him come back, and the thought of Briar-Sea growing up without him was a pain he couldn’t bear.

---

The day he was to leave for the Quarter Quell arrived too soon. Finnick knelt in front of Briar-Sea, who clung to her favorite seashell, a gift from him.

“Be good for Mommy, okay, sea star?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Briar-Sea nodded solemnly, not fully understanding what was happening. “When you come back, can we go to the beach?” she asked.

Finnick’s heart broke. He forced a smile and kissed her forehead. “Of course we can,” he whispered, even though he didn’t believe it.

Pearl stood behind him, tears streaming down her face. Finnick pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. “I love you,” he murmured. “Take care of her. Take care of yourself.”

“I love you, too,” she choked out. “Come back to us, Finnick. Please.”

He pulled back, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice shaking. Then he kissed her, pouring all his love and desperation into that single moment before he turned and walked away.

---

As the hovercraft took him back to the arena, Finnick sat silently, clutching a small trinket—a tiny shell necklace Briar-Sea had made with Pearl’s help. It was his anchor, his reminder of what he was fighting for.

Back in the Capitol, Pearl held Briar-Sea close, whispering stories about her father. She promised herself she would keep his memory alive for their daughter, no matter what the future held.

Finnick Odair, the Capitol darling, was more than just a survivor or a symbol. He was a father, a lover, and a man who carried the weight of a world that never truly understood him. And as he stepped into the horrors of the arena once more, his heart remained with the two girls who were his entire world.

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did please react in anyway.

🌊🔱

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic Ezra

I started trying to catch up in my reading at the end of last year thinking I could tackle one character at a time. Let me tell you, I'm not even half the way through my Ezra reading, but here's what I wanna rec thus far!

A Forgotten Scene by @fromthedeskoftheraven It's a sweet, domestic snippet of fluffy bliss and I want to live in it forever.

We all agree Ezra just *loves* the sound of your voice, right? by @haylzcyon I am all for Ezra just giving in to his innate hornyness. I am all for grinding all out in the open where anyone can see. I am all for knowing about being watched. I am all for loss of control and making a mess and am I sweating? I think I'm sweating over this.

Ezra Goes to Church by @beefrobeefcal Listen. Ezra's hung like a whale and he doesn't care who knows it. Props to great-grammy who knows what's what.

A Light at the End of the Tunnel by @artemiseamoon I'm always so afraid to read whump stories, afraid that they'll end in sadness and misfortune for the character. I'm really glad that isn't the case here. It's hard to watch Ezra struggle with PTSD; I always want the best for him. But I'm so so glad that at the end of it all that means he gets what he wants and most definitely what he needs.

The False Queen by @blueeyesatnight This is a fun AU where Ezra grows up as a con artist...and he's real good at it too, although he may have never chosen the lifestyle if it wasn't for his partner in crime. Love is rough when you know you should be focusing on the con....

Fairy Gold by @julesonrecord Okay yes I know I'm late to the party on this but dang! All the screaming gifs. All. And yes, it's Ezra being a smooth talking Gold Rush prospector and seductive AF, but it's the ending what got me. The realization of what's in the box and what it means? Gorgeous. Knocked me out cold.

A Kiss in the Dark by @something-tofightfor There's something very visceral and sweet about this birfday kiss scenario with Ezra. I love that Rachael has him telling the reader how much he loves them not by saying it outright, but rather heaping heartfelt gratitude on the day that they came into the world. It's so very intimate and quiet, and the perfect start to a birfday.

by @insomniamamma

Threefold Here's an Ezra that lives up to the man we first meet in the movie--a world that J is an expert in. He's done a lot of people dirty and this reader character is one of them. But things have changed and there's a chance for riches--both literal and figurative. And the risk is so so so worth it.

Needles and Pins Tattoo artist Ezra helps to cover some literal and emotional scars...and maybe offer more time together than is needed for the inking. I would absolutely fall head over ass for tattoo artist Ezra. Especially if he was this gentle and accommodating, if he and I clicked over a design, if I needed my life to start again... I really need to book an appointment...guh.

by @morallyinept

Hydrate Jett writes some poetic stylings and I'm here for it. Especially when she likens Ezra's bits and pieces to his morals--heavy and loose. I kinda lost my mind. I mean, on top of the whole thing about watching Ezra skinny dipping in a waterfall pool. This is as much a work of art as that boy is.

Wipspiration: Sleazy Psychic Ezra Based on one of her etherial moodboards, Jett presents a seedy scene of tension and tarot and horniness that I'm still recovering from.

[jessicas-pi]

So, given that I actually have an AU where Anakin and Ahsoka secretly co-authoring a trashy obitine novel is a major plot point, it seemed pretty obvious to me what the setting was gonna have to be for my fic for @sabezraweek's Sabezra Day! I had it all planned out. It was gonna be set in this hilarious No-Order-66 AU, and Luke and Leia and Mara and Kata and Shin were all Ezra's friends in the Jedi Temple and they all totally shipped sabezra and went so far as to write a play based on the Trashy Obitine Novel for the Bi-Annual Jedi Theater Night as an excuse to make sabine and ezra play the leads (and therefore kiss) and...

...well, needless to say, I did not come anywhere near to finishing that fic. So instead, here's a bit of a really old WIP, from an entirely different AU, wherein Sabine and Ezra watch (a holofilm adaptation of) Anakin And Ahsoka's Top Secret Trashy Obitine Novel! (Yeah, the Trashy Obitine Novel is a running gag in my fics.)

------

Ezra sits with his knees pulled up to his chest as he waits for Sabine to get the holoprojector set up.

He’s wearing his dumb Loth-cat pajamas again. He has others, but it’s pretty much tradition by now. He wears the Loth-cat onesie, she wears her hideous green-and-purple pajamas with glow-in-the-dark stars, he’s the one to gather the blankets for the fort while she gets the snacks, they always take a selfie… they have a lot of traditions for Movie Night.

It’s a whole thing now. Once every month, they have a not-sleepover in her room. (They’ve only had six so far, but he hopes this is a tradition that will last until they’re old and pruney.) It’s awesome, because for that single night, they get to be just a couple of goofy kids staying up until exactly 3am. They forget about the Rebellion and about the Empire and about everything they lost and just have fun.

That’s turning out to be a little harder than usual for Ezra today, though.

It’s Empire Day.

It’s been nine years since he lost his family. They’re gone; gone and dead, and he knows that now. But the ache remains, and he’d been prepared to stay shut up in his room all night, except Sabine barged in and threatened to throw him over her shoulder and carry him fireman-style to the blanket fort if he didn’t get moving already.

Ezra knows she’s trying to make light of it all, but he can’t help noticing the worried glances she keeps giving him. In the end, it’s more for her sake than for his own that he decides he just won’t think about it anymore tonight.

So he thinks about something else.

The story behind tonight’s holo is pretty wild. Hera sent the rest of the crew on a supply run into a market town a week ago, and Ezra… okay, maybe he got a little distracted, because he ended up wandering into a spooky old secondhand shop run by a guy (looking back on it, Ezra is 99% sure he was a Jedi) and his creepy wife, where he saw a holofilm case with Mando’a writing—he couldn’t read it, but he could recognize the letters—on it, and as it turned out, not only was it a Mandalorian holofilm, it was also a very very banned Mandalorian holofilm based on a book, and the book was based on, supposedly, a true story. The maybe-Jedi claimed to have known the real-life version of the male lead of the story.

(Honestly? Ezra believes him.)

Anyway, he bought the holo for Sabine (for no reason, really, except maybe a little bit because it would make her smile), and he did not expect the reaction he got (which was her nearly falling over from laughing so hard.) Then she told him that she had read the book and it was just completely terrible, we’re totally watching this next movie night.

Sabine nudges him over and sits down next to him.

“What do I need to know about this?” he asks, as the beginning credits start to appear.

“It’s a Mandalorian holodrama called Tigaanur Te Ka’ra. It’s very loosely based on a novel written during the Clone Wars. Apparently, the film was pretty controversial, because it was a more traditional Mandalorian studio that made it, but a couple of the heroes in this are Jedi. Which is also why I’ve never been able to get my hands on it. I’ve heard it was different—better, than the book.” She makes a face. “It couldn’t be worse. I couldn’t get through Chapter 39. I had to skip it.”

Ezra grins at her. “I didn’t know you liked novels.”

“Guilty indulgence. I bought Touch The Stars because the Mandalorian main character was named Sabine, and she had Jedi friends.”

He breaks into a grin. “Hey, like us?”

Sabine turns her head and stares at him with exaggerated vacancy in her eyes, like she’s having flashbacks or envisioning something horrible, and says distinctly: “There were a few differences.”

He gets enough of the vibes of her tone to understand more or less what she’s hinting at.

“You, uh. You don’t need to elaborate.”

“I won’t.”

He clears his throat awkwardly. “So, is this going to have, um…”

“A racy scene that Kanan or Hera will inevitably walk in on even though it’s only twenty seconds long and the entire rest of the holo is nothing they’d blink twice at?” Sabine offers, filling in the awkward blank.

“Yeah.”

“Heck no. Mandalorian holodramas don’t even usually have kissing. We Mandos show affection by going to war at each others’ sides, and sometimes bonking our heads together.”

Then the holo starts, and it occurs to Ezra that he doesn’t speak any Mando’a and this film has no subtitles.

“What’s happening?” he whispers as the opening scene plays out, showing a bunch of Mandalorians sitting around a table. (Ominous music plays whenever one of them talks, and a mysterious sort of wind-chime motif follows a different one around. Then there’s a heroic melody for a third Mandalorian. Villain, love interest, hero, Ezra decides.)

“Peace conference. Never ends well.”

Sure enough, about three seconds after Sabine says that, Bad Guy Mando whips out a blaster and starts shooting. The Wind Chime Mando jumps up on the table and starts swinging a lightsaber—the Jedi in disguise?

The fight scene lengthens on gratuitously, until finally Wind Chimes grabs Hero and does a jump that Ezra is pretty sure even a Jedi Master couldn’t pull off that carries them out through the stained-glass ceiling.

They escape, and then they stop, and argue, and argue, and argue more. Finally, Wind Chimes rips off her helmet to yell at Hero better, and Ezra notes that she looks a little ragged. Her curly red hair is falling out of its braid, and her face is sweaty-looking. (She’s also stunningly gorgeous, because of course she is. But she is worse for the wear, which is surprisingly realistic for a holodrama.)

Ezra glances over at Sabine and is surprised to see that she’s sitting forward a little, watching with rapt attention. She can understand the dialogue and he can’t, which explains some of it, but she looks invested.

The movie continues on for another two hours—he wonders just how long Mandalorian holodramas are, because they’re not even close to coming to a plot resolution—and from what Ezra can put together, the story goes something like this:

Beni is the name of the red-haired lady. She’s a Jedi Padawan who disguised herself as a Mandalorian to attend the peace conference for… some reason. She rescued Tian, aka Hero Mandalorian, and Beni, Tian, and Beni’s Jedi Master, Quinn, are traveling to an important place that they have to get to so they can do something important.

There’s also been, like, six musical numbers.

Yeah, Ezra’s not really sure what’s going on anymore.

[licorishh]

This is brought up alllllll the time in fics as, like, a moral dilemma or something, but think about it. Think about the butterfly effect of Ahsoka letting Maul out of his cell on the Tribunal.

If she hadn't done that,

1. She would be dead.

2. Rex would still have his chip and either be dead or a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

3. Every clone on the ship would either be dead or a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

4. Wrecker would've either annihilated the rest of the Bad Batch when his chip went off, or, if they'd somehow survived, their chips could've gone off at any time. We don't know that Tech's guess about them being immune was actually correct, especially since it was disproven at least in Wrecker's case.

5. Number 4 means that Omega would also be dead.

6. If the Bad Batch and Omega were dead by this point, then subsequently, Mount Tantiss would never have been destroyed, Hemlock would still be alive, and Project Necromancer would continue with no real setbacks.

7. Number 6 means that Emerie would never have had the opportunity to see firsthand why what she was participating in was so horrible, and thus, she would've remained a slave to the Empire for the rest of her life.

8. Number 5 and number 6 mean that Crosshair would never have escaped Mount Tantiss and he would've been a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

9. None of the clones Rex ends up finding and helping in the Bad Batch would've found out about the chips and removed them, thus rendering them slaves to the Empire for the rest of their lives.

10. Number 7 means that the children Emerie helps in the end would've continued to be experimented on and remained slaves to the Empire for the rest of their lives.

11. The clone cadets on that planet in the beginning of season 3 of TBB never would've made it off-world.

12. Wolffe never would've found out about his chip and removed it, and he would've been a slave to the Empire for the rest of his life.

13. Many years later, Ezra and Kanan would've died on Malachor, so nothing that they do after that for the rest of Rebels would've ever even happened. Kanan would not have been blinded because Maul would not have been there, but I'd argue being dead is a lot worse.

14. Number 13 means that Thrawn would have won, and if Thrawn had been present during the events of the original trilogy, the Rebellion would've stood no chance, and the Empire's victory would've been resound and indisputable. The deaths of Jyn, Cassian, Baze, Chirrut, Bodie, and all the other rebels on Scarif would've been for nothing.

15. Number 14 means that Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, and everyone else would've either died or been made prisoners of war.

16. Number 15 means that Vader would never have turned to the light side.

17. Number 15 also means that Palpatine would never have died, and the galaxy would have no hope.

Like... do you see where I'm going with this?? There's so much I didn't even mention because I can't just remember the entirety of Rebels off the top of my head, but... dude. If Ahsoka hadn't let Maul out, LOOK what would never have happened. Can you imagine???

[syndullqs]

sleep deprivation — ezra bridger

summary — it’s been a while since you’ve gotten good sleep. the ghost crew is starting to see those effects.

warnings — gn!reader, absolute fluff

requested by — anon <3

SLEEP WAS EVADING YOU. this wasn’t the first night that you laid there, tossing and turning. your eyes met the ceiling, begging yourself to sleep. was it how quiet it was? maybe. you weren’t used to the quiet, not with how used to you were to loud noises and explosions. that was war.

you saw the beginnings of light peak under your door, and you ran your hands down your face. you and the ghost crew found a home on lothal, especially since the war since ended.

it didn’t mean that the nightmares didn’t stop. it didn’t mean that life all of a sudden got easier.

you rolled off of your cot, your back aching as you settled your feet onto the hard flooring of your room. it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. you slipped into something more presentable, stretching your aching limbs as you did so. you needed caf, desperately.

you walked out of your room, the light of the hallway blinding you as you made your way down the hallway of the building you called home. the other members of the ghost crew resided there, as well as some other ex-rebellion fighters.

“good morning!” a too-happy chirp came from ezra, who peaked out of his room. he noticed the bags under your eyes, the lack of energy you had. you’d looked like that for the past few days. yesterday you were hyped up, and today you were obviously not.

“not in the mood, ezra,” you grumbled as you walked into the kitchen, grabbed the pot of freshly made caf and a mug.

“sorry,” he shrugged as he followed you into the kitchen, watching as you drank the caf straight, without anything in it, “since when do you drink straight caf?”

“since i can’t seem to get some sleep,” you gave a tight-lipped smile as you took a sip. ezra looked at you, surprised. he didn’t know how he didn’t see it earlier.

“why aren’t you sleeping?”

“i think it’s too quiet,” you admitted, leaning against the counter. it was just the two of you in there, the coolness of the room biting at your skin.

“being in a war your whole life makes you forget how nice the quiet is,” he agreed. he knew what it was like, sleeping after the war. he didn’t get much of it until he got used to it. his heart hurt upon the realization that you were having a hard time adjusting.

“yeah…did you about the excavations the rebellion is doing?”

“no,”

“yeah it’s pretty cool. there’s a lot of history behind it. apparently they’ve found this really cool artifact, which by the way dates back all the way to the clone wars,”

“oh really?” he watched you, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. he liked watching you geek out, tell him facts about some obscure part of history or something related. he always learned something from you.

“it’s cool. i want to ask ahsoka about it and see if she remembers — hey hera, did you get my report last night?” you interrupted yourself upon the arrival of hera, who looked at tired as everyone else was.

“i did, thanks,” she hummed as she poured herself a cup of caf.

“good, let me know if i need to fix anything. anyways, i was going to ask ahsoka if she remembered it, which reminds me that i have to send a message to someone about something,” you felt the connections in your brain loosening, which altered your ability to focus on one thing at a time. multitasking wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

“who do you need to send a message to?” ezra asked. surprisingly, he never got whiplash whenever you’d switch up the topics of conversation like that. he was used to it, and honestly he liked it. he thought it was adorable, yet he knew that’s not how you felt. he knew you felt like your mind was melting.

“i don’t remember…” you trailed off, losing yourself in your reflection in your cup of caf. your brain hurt, you were exhausted, and you needed some sleep. ezra softly removed the cup from your hands, settling it on the counter.

“you need sleep,” you softly told you.

“i know but i can’t,”

“i can help you,”

“how?” your hands slapped against your thighs in frustration.

“we jedi have this thing called the force and it can help put you to sleep,” he replied, causing you to smack his arm for how smart he was being.

“can you actually do that?” you asked him, a hopeful glint in your eyes. he chuckled, taking your hand in his and leading you to your bedroom.

“yeah, it’s pretty cool actually,” he hummed as you reached your room. you laid down, ezra sitting next to you. you curled up with your blankets, ezra’s warm hand covering your forehead. you felt the soft pull of sleep, pulling you deeper into its embrace.

“sleep well, y/n,” ezra hummed as your eyes closed, falling asleep.

hehe i hope you enjoy anon! sorry it took me so long and i’m sorry if it doesn’t exactly fit your request, but we still got some cute ezra fluff.

[aburningconstellation]

i’ve been thinking a lot about ezra bridger & jacen syndulla this week

ezra never got to meet jacen before he disappeared. he didn’t even know hera was pregnant.

so imagine he comes back, after being gone for years, and has to re-acclimate to a galaxy he’s no longer familiar with. everyone is so excited to see him again. sabine, ahsoka, zeb, hera, kallus - even chopper - come running to welcome him back with open arms. then from behind all of them, a little boy with green hair comes tumbling through. ezra doesn’t know who he is, but the boy wraps him in a hug & says “you must be my uncle ezra! will you teach me to be a jedi? like my dad was?”

and IMMEDIATELY ezra knows. he hasn’t felt his master’s presence in years, but there is a part of him present in this child. jacen syndulla - son of kanan jarrus and hera syndulla.

in many ways ezra still feels like a padawan, even though he’s certainly been through his great trial of knighthood by this point. and even if he isn’t fully ready, he knows that he must train this boy. and what a gift that would be for ezra to teach kanan’s son all the lessons that kanan taught him, but that kanan isn’t able to teach jacen himself. to believe in this young boy and show him how to find the light and what it means to live a selfless life.

and ezra bridger gets to grow old and watch jacen grow up. there are certainly days where it’s hard, but he does not take any of them for granted. he stands a daily vigil, taking in all of jacen’s milestones. mentally cataloguing each of them before offering them to his memory of kanan. look master. look what your son can do. i see the way you live in him.

and thus continues the ever expanding circle of master to apprentice to master to apprentice.

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens - February reads - fanfics recs 🤓🩷

Follow along for short summaries and recs on the books i read🩷 The numbers are for funsies - i want to count my reads throughout 2025.

I only read finished stories and one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else. Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapterfics

28] Crowley´s naked man friend [M] by @naughtyspirit

Set after S1, Crowley one morning wakes in his car to a naked Aziraphale standing in front of the bentley. And though the Angel knows why that is, there is no easy solution - is there?

Last month i read Aziraphale's naked man friend and i quite enjoyed it. This one was the logical next read, though it is very different from the first one. It is much more tender and focuses in the development of their relationship instead of solving a mystery. Both stories can be read as stand-alone!

29] Saving Eden - Part 1 (E) by @Aspiring_Eccentrics

Crowley is working as a bartender and - from time to time - also makes an appearance on stage as Lilith. It is 2005 and he has a third "job", one he doesn´t talk about but still has no choice but to do. At least for the time being. Until one evening a man all dressed in light colors sits on the only barstool below a headlight, which baths him in white light and only deepens the first impression of an angelic beeing. Ezra is here for his job, scouting properties for his cousin and boss Gabriel. They both are unhappy with their lifes and see no escape - until it seems the only way for them to go forward.

I have to admit - the first pages of this fic had me undecided. It seemed a bit shallow and i only read on because i hate giving up on books. And i am SO happy about it, because this story really grows and gets SO exciting and full of plot (and also hot) that i would really have missed out. The story finishes at a good point, where you can - but mustnt - finish spying in them. Because there is a second part!

30] Saving Eden - Part 2 [E] by @Aspiring_Eccentrics

This part is even longer than the first part, though the author claims it to be a somewhat longer epiloque. The story is softer and has more time, it is basically about their first year after the end of Part1, how they grow together and develop their personal but also professional future. It is also tagged [E] but has only very few scenes in it.

Sadly i could´t find the author on tumblr, pls share the love if you happen to know them!

One-Shots

31] Fin (G) by @avoicebehindthestars

What is left for our beloved angels after they avert the second coming? A sad and honest musing i really loved. 💔

32] The Crown You Never Take Off (B) by @itsclydebitches 

After the Armageddon't Crowley turns up at the bookshop with a new hairstyle. Aziraphale feels inspired to change his look too and the demon takes him to his hairdresser. 🧑🏼‍🦳 

33] To whom it may concern (T) by @waitingtobebroken 

The archangel Aziraphale and the granddukeofhell Crowley exchange emails. Very professional of course. 😉 

34] Totally not judging but (T) by @waitingtobebroken 

For 2 weeks Alex has been working at the bookshop for the lovely Mr. Fell, but still he hasn't met his husband. Today his boss is meant to lunch with him, but the hubby is late. And on top of that, there is this very annoying Mr. Crowley, who turned up and started to flirt with Mr. Fell. 😄 

35] Will you ever stop surprising me (M) by @curiouspupsicle

After the second not-ending of the world, Crowley wonders if he ever will get bored of a life with his angel. Just then, Aziraphale detects a new shop nearby, it´s called "Eden Delights" ... 😁

So February looks like a slow month, but honestly i quit on 2 fics for different reasons and i started a new list for Our Flag Means Death Fanfic recs! 🩷 I hope you DO enjoy the fics above and spread the love to the authors through your kudos, comments and recs!